


Silence

by Amymel86



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Authors choice, F/M, Healing, Hurt, Jonsa week, a bit of a crack fic ending, im laughing already, king in the north, smut in the second chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8425918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: Soooo I'm a bit late with my day 7 entry of my JONSA WEEK fics and this one became a bit bigger than intended so it's split into 2 chapters. The second chapter will contain smut and have a ridiculous ending that I'm already laughing out loud about - the first chapter is a bit serious in comparison.*******When Sansa reaches Jon at Castle Black she's been through so much that her trauma has rendered her mute. How can he begin to heal her pain to bring her sweet voice back?





	1. Part 1

It had been nothing but bittersweet, their reunion at Castle Black. The vibrant, carefree girl that had left Winterfell was gone and stood in her place was a shell of her former self. She was still beautiful and full of grace - Jon thought that nothing could take those qualities away from Sansa, they were ingrained into her very being. But the girl who rode through those gates and launched herself into his welcoming embrace was very different indeed.

Something had happened to her, many things most likely, to warrant such a change in her and the answers that Jon's mind had conjured caused bile to creep up his throat as he prepared to fight imaginary demons for her.

She was skittish - which Jon thought was understandable considering she was now in a bleak place such as Castle Black, being surrounded by his brother's hungry eyes on her womanly body, lusting for the curves beneath her clothes.

But it wasn't her darting eyes or shaking hands that troubled him so, it was her reluctance to speak. The Lady Brienne, who had assured Sansa's safe travels to him had warned Jon that she had not let one word slip past her lips in the entirety of the two weeks worth of travels. She had hoped that finding family again might coax her to breathe life into her voice once more, but as the days rolled onto weeks, Sansa continued to communicate through smiles, head nods or shakes, pointing or writing on parchment.

Jon was unsure as to what their next steps were to be, for he would surely not go anywhere without her now. Sansa currently filled her days hidden away in Jon's chambers, mending and making clothes for The Watch. Their dark evenings consisted of sitting about his fire, Jon trying to fill the empty silences with his own voice. 

He retold stories from their childhood in an effort to cheer her. Sansa nodding along enthusiastically to his words, her pretty face cracking into a wide infectious smile when he mentioned the trouble Robb would get himself into during their younger years. Jon tried to recall any childhood memories that had included both Sansa and himself - there were very little of those kinds of tales which deepened his frown on realisation.

In a bid to help Sansa regain her speech, Jon imparted the story of his death. Edd had suggested that sharing his own tale of horror may encourage his sister to unburden herself and begin to heal whatever wrongs had befallen her.

Sansa wept silent tears upon hearing Jon's recount of his betrayal. She bid him to stand and frantically began clawing at the buckles on his jerkin.

"The scars"? Jon asked. Sansa nodded through watery eyes. 

He stilled her hands for a moment and then sighed before taking over and ridding himself of the clothing on his upper half.

Sansa's sharp intake of breath had been the only noise Jon had witnessed originate from her mouth. She gently raised her hand and paused to ask permission with her eyes to continue. Jon nodded.

After stroking each blades kiss delicately, Sansa wrapped her arms around Jon's middle and buried her cheek against his bare chest. He didn't need her illusive words to understand. She was sorry and pained for his own sorrows. His heart swelled.

Sansa peeled herself away from him after a while of them both standing by the fire, holding each other in silence. She tried to convey something to him through her slightly reddened, glistening eyes. Sansa squeezed his hand and stepped back with a nod.

To Jon's surprise, Sansa began unlacing the bodice of her dress at her front.

"Sansa what are you-" he was cut off by Sansa's raised hand. She reached out for his own and squeezed it once more, giving him a small smile.

Jon closed his eyes in realisation that she was to show him something.

Jon surveyed her scars with horror and rage as Sansa stood with her bared back to him, her dress and under shift bunched down to her hips and her hair swept to her front.

"Oh Sansa"! He gasped as he took two strides towards her and began tracing the criss-cross of angry red marks on her shoulder blades. 

Sansa turned to face him suddenly, cupping her breasts from his view. Jon's eyes widened when he caught sight of the pattern of deep purple bruises that littered her pearly white skin over her stomach. He was stunned into a silence that could almost match her own.

Sansa swayed her head elegantly to sweep her hair back over her shoulders. She closed her eyes and let out a determined but still shaky breath before removing her hands from her breasts and clenching them at her sides.

Jon felt a tremendous amount of guilt when he realised that sister or not, Sansa had grown into her body well and that the sight of her naked from the waist up did have an effect on his body. However, guilt from that realisation was eclipsed by a new wave of guilt when he saw what it was she was showing to him. Bite marks. Angry evidence of teeth marred the soft plump swell of her breasts here and there, occasionally it looked as though her perfect skin had been punctured and scabbed over.

"Who did this"?! The frantic burn of rage bubbled over into his words as Jon gripped her upper arms. "Who Sansa"?! He ducked his head slightly, making sure their eyes were level.

Sansa straightened her shoulders and met Jon's stare of concerned heat before mouthing one word 'Bolton'.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok I'm doing it again!!! I say it's only going to be 2 chapters but find that I need to add another! So this is not the last chapter people and is not the end!

One silent word. One inaudible mouthing of that traitorous House was all it took for Jon to raise arms and cut down every Bolton man he could lay his hands on with a fury and bloodlust that shocked even himself in hindsight.

For her.

He'd been caked in mud and blood and littered with wounds. His hands trembled with hot emotion and his battle grunts and cries left him hoarse. With a weary body that felt not like his own, he vowed he would do it all again tomorrow if needs be.

For her.

He remembers her face as it scanned the crowd of battle fatigued men, each looking alike, wearing evidence of the victims of their blades. Her eyes missed him at first, not recognising, not seeing.

Her features softened and cracked once she had finally picked him out from the others. He can't remember how long they were there for, half knelt, half collapsed against one another on the stone floor of the courtyard of their childhood home. Sansa's frame trembling from her silent sobs as she clung to him, stroking his filthy hair, not caring for the grime.

That was almost two years ago now, and still Sansa had not yet uttered one word. Jon had hoped that watching the life leave the body of the Bolton bastard who had scarred her so deeply might go some way in healing the hurt enough for Sansa to once again make sweet sounds. He hoped that rebuilding their home and making it theirs once more would encourage her musical laughter - but it never came.

Not that she seemed at all melancholy or permanently haunted, no, Sansa would often grace Jon with her wide smile and twinkling ocean eyes until he became needy for them. Searching them out like an addict. He did everything in his power to witness her happiness each and every day - sourcing fresh lemons for her favoured lemoncakes, sending for fine silks and laces for her dresses, holding as many feasts as he could stomach and Winterfell's stores and coin would allow. He could never see a future where he would not give everything he had to keep her happy, keep her safe. She had already endured so much and stayed strong, she deserved the world and more.

In turn, Sansa seemed to want to support Jon also. She was by his side when the Lords proclaimed him King in the North, quiet and smiling, placing a small delicate hand on his and giving him a reassuring squeeze. She welcomed his sobbing frame into her arms when the reality of his true parentage had hit him like a thunderstorm. Stroking his hair and holding him tight, pulling back to look deep into his red-rimmed eyes as she pressed her palm over her heart and then his. Imploring him to understand a connection that could not be severed by this new information.

It is perhaps why the marriage proposals irked him so - ones both to him and Sansa, that others sought to weaken and break their connection.

Some Lords dared imply that Sansa should be grateful for any consideration due to her damaged being. He even overheard jokes more than once on the supposed 'perks' of receiving a mute wife. Those Lords were met with a protective rage that always seemed to bubble and simmer near the surface, and handled in such a way that made it perfectly clear that they were no longer welcome at Winterfell.

He told himself that it was his desire to protect her that led him to take her as his wife, but sometimes, when he lay alone in his own chambers, wishing he could sink his tongue into her mouth, his hands against her womanly flesh and his cock into her cunt - he knows that there was more than one motive to have her as his wife.

He pushed his desires deep down and trampled upon them until he felt secure they would not arise. He and Sansa had agreed upon a marriage of name only and she was happy. He could not, and would not do anything to taint her happiness - desires be damned.

They had not broached the subject of heirs, still nurturing blind belief that Arya and Bran would find their way back to them. They slipped into a partnership of ease until that happened.

Sansa was an important part of his council. She would sit and observe, silently watching like a stone effigy of herself, as the other members and guests discussed the matters at hand.

Jon knew Sansa could read people expertly. He knew she would bring to him her own ideas and conclusions, so after the last few words of the discussions were uttered, and after every other member had slunk from the room, he would give her time to elegantly write her findings and inputs. It was one of his favoured things about his meetings - watching her as she wrote, listening to the scratch of quill upon parchment or seeing the way she closes her eyes in concentration when trying to find the right combination of words to put into ink. Sometimes he would see her lips move as she mouthed the words to her sentences, how he wished her voice would accompany the movement. Her written comments were always astute and her advice mature beyond her years - Jon found them invaluable.

They spent all their evenings together by the hearth. Sometimes Sansa would have written a summery of her day or some musing of hers that she was keen to share. As well as being perceptive and bright, Jon found her writing to be sharp and quite witty when she wanted to be. He hadn't remembered that aspect of her from when they were children.

Unbeknownst to Sansa, Jon kept all of her notes, squirrelling them away in the locked drawer of his writing desk.

Jon became accustomed to being the only vocal participant at their parties of two. He considers it a pity, for he had never been adept with words. Sansa on the other hand, had years of learning her songs and romantic tales, allowing her to form beautiful strings of perfect words with great ease. This still showed in her writing but Jon lamented the absence of her voice - would it be changed now? Now that she was a woman grown and not the young girl he once knew and heard? He hardly remembered it as it was.

Strolling into their solar one evening, Jon chuckled and held his hands up in surrender when Sansa attacked him with a fierce glare aimed at his muddy boots. He toes them off before losing his mantle and settling in the armchair opposite her own. He groaned as the warmth of the fire seeps into his weary bones. Sansa gives him a sympathetic smile.

He noticed that Sansa was fingering a scroll in her lap nervously. She normally gave her notes to him almost as soon as his backside hit the upholstery so he thought this a little strange. Jon frowned as he realised that the note may not be for him. He cleared his throat.

"I thought that the meeting with the Free Folk and the Umbers went well" he said, still eyeing the scroll in her hands. Sansa nodded and tucked the note to her side, between her leg and the armrest. Jon's brow furrowed.

"A couple of the pear trees have developed some sort of rot that Carter hasn't seen before, he hopes it does not spread to the others" Jon said conversationally. Sansa's brows knit together and she quickly rose to make her way to the bookshelf. Jon eyed the note left on her chair once more.

After finding the text she required, Sansa returned and Jon watched on as her graceful hands flipped the dry pages of the book, her lagoon blue eyes frantically skimming the words. A small whisp of silken copper hair came loose from her braid as she bent over her lap. Jon considered reaching out and tucking it behind her ear, just for a chance to touch her. He'd done something like that before a handful of times, the act seeming just this side of safe. Sansa would be a little startled at the gesture, but her shock would melt into a bright beaming smile causing something to tighten within Jon's chest.

Perhaps here, alone in the low flicker of firelight would be too intimate Jon muses. His fingers itch to act none-the-less.

Sansa's face scrunches in adorable frustration and then suddenly illuminates in glee as she found the passage she had been searching for. Handing over the old leather bound book and pointing to a page, Sansa implores him to read the title of the chapter.

"Uncommon Tree Diseases" Jon reads aloud and flicks his eyes back up to Sansa where he sees warmth radiate from every pore.

"Thank you Sansa, I'm sure Carter will find this useful". Jon says as he takes the book, pretending to skim the information presented while throwing sideways glances back at Sansa, who was now back to playing with the note between her fingers.

"Is...is that for me"? Jon inclined his head towards the parchment in her hands. Sansa's movements freeze and she answers him with a small nod. She looks down at the note in her hand and let's out a huffy breath before tentatively offering the unsealed scroll to Jon with a nervous smile upon her lips.

_Jon,_

_I am aware that what I am about ask of you will impact both of our lives greatly and that you have already done so, so much for me. I am happy Jon, so very happy to be home with you but I feel that there is something lacking from my life. I want a child. A new life that would be pure and untainted and ours. I do not ask for this for the sake of an heir for the North, but rather selfishly for myself._

_I know I am asking a lot from you but please believe me when I say I have thought on this subject for quite some time and the empty ache in my heart has only grown and become almost unbearable_.

_I would not expect anything from you after the Maester confirms the presence of a babe, but I somehow suspect that you would enjoy being a father Jon, and a good one at that._

_Think on it if you must but I've been charting my monthly cycles and we could start trying in two weeks time ~ should you agree to my request._

 

Jon looked up from the note and seeing that Sansa was avoiding eye contact with him, he took the opportunity to re-read the letter.

_A babe? With Sansa? She wants to have my child?_

Thoughts of rosy cheeked children playing in the snow sporting Sansa's copper hair and bright blue eyes danced into his mind. Chubby little hands reaching out to him and calling for their papa. The swelling in his chest was painful and sweet.

Jon cleared his throat before speaking, the hand clutching onto the parchment trembling slightly. "Is....is this truly what you want Sansa"?

She met his eyes hesitantly, her hands wringing together nervously. She looked on the verge of tears as she nodded to confirm.

"Yes Sansa, I should like to have a babe with you".

 

 

 


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So so sorry that this took longer than intended!! I worked on it... reworked it....got ill....reworked it some more and I'm still not sure about it but thought 'fuck it' and have decided to post it tonight!!
> 
> Fingers, toes and eyes crosssed you don't all think it's absolutely dreadful!...... gahhhh......

The two weeks that they should wait until they could start trying for a babe were filled with too many thoughts and not enough sleep for Jon.

That lustful bastard side of him was already picturing all manor of acts that he should like to play out on Sansa's beautiful body. Some that he imagined would not even result in a babe, but he allowed his sinful mind its indulgences all the same.

In the moments where he felt more in control of his thoughts, able to reign in the baser images that his mind presented to him, he considered what Sansa needed.

Sansa was in need of feeling safe. Jon knew that her past experiences in the marriage bed were not happy ones - far from it. If he could see any way of providing her with that feeling of safety then he would be a damned fool not to give it to her.

Their interactions together had not changed much but Jon detected a hint of uncertainty in her smiles and nervousness in her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to wash all of that away for her. He wanted to gather her up and whisper that he would never hurt her; that she was not forcing him to do something he did not want; that sometimes, when he thought of being with her as a husband and wife should, creating life together; watching her grow large with child - his child; his heart swells painfully and feels as though it may burst through his ribs.

Sansa handed him a note one evening as they sat by the hearth. She darted her eyes away from him as quickly as possible.

You can visit me in my chambers tomorrow night. The Maester says it is a good time in my cycle to get with babe.

Even her writing - normally elegant, beautiful, thought out and yet somehow carefree - looked to be stilted; hiding jitters and feelings of fear.

Jon couldn't abide the thought that Sansa was fearing him - fearing what he might do to her. He quickly moved to be in front of Sansa, kneeling down so that they were eye level with each other.

"Sansa" he started, reaching out to hold both of her slightly trembling hands in his. "I want you to know that it won't be anything like with...him...". Sansa nodded, looked back down at their hands in her lap and took a shaky breath before Jon continued. "I....I wouldn't hurt you... you know that don't you"? 

She nodded down at their hands, still not looking at Jon. "I need you to know that you....we can stop... at anytime...should you become uncomfortable". Sansa looked up at him then, her bright eyes boring back into his. She gave him a small smile before releasing one of her hands from his grasp and cupping his cheek, stroking it gently with her thumb. Jon closed his eyes momentarily at her tender touch.

"I will...I will stop, Sansa, if you want me to". Jon's voice was weakened by her gentleness. He cleared his throat before continuing. "I can...I want to make it...pleasurable for you Sansa". Jon held his breath.

Sansa's look of confusion damned near broke his heart. That she had not known gentleness or a tender loving touch was a crime. He forced a smile upon his face and placed his hand atop hers where it rested on his cheek. It was trembling. Jon gulped.

"Sansa... if...if you're not ready to start to try for a babe...we can postpone...until you're ready".

Sansa's other hand suddenly flew to the other side of his face, she was shaking her head vehemently. Sansa leant forward and mouthed the words 'no', 'ready'....'just nervous'. She held her jittering hand out in between them to prove to Jon what he already knew. He grasped her hand in both of his, hoping that the gesture would be calming as he cocooned her trembling fingers.

"Please don't be nervous Sansa...please don't be afraid of me" he choked, his eyes searching hers frantically.

Sansa contemplated Jon and nodded slowly before leaning towards him a fraction, stealing herself for a second. Her eyes fell to his lips before she bridged the gap and pressed her lips to his. 

It was chaste and lovely. Jon didn't want to part from her - ever.

All too soon, she was pulling away. Sansa blushed and Jon thought he'd never seen a more beautiful sight.

"You trust me"? 

Sansa nodded in response. Jon noticed she was no longer trembling.

***********

The door closed behind him with a soft clunk. Sansa was already abed and sat straight up, clutching the furs to her chest when she heard him enter her chambers.

"My Lady" Jon announced as he swept into an over exaggerated bow, trying to break the tension. Sansa smiled and covered her mouth with her fingers. Jon liked to think she would have giggled if she could.

As he hesitantly made his way to her bedside, Jon took in her nervous demeanour. Sansa was watching his every move, still grasping onto the furs tightly.

Once he stood at her bed, Jon let out a sigh. "Sansa....we don't have to do this....not now...not until you're ready".

She shook her head, closed her eyes and took in a long inhale and even longer exhale.

"Sansa, after everything you've been through...it's...its understandable if you're not ready...I would not bed you if you are unwilli-". Jon's tumble of words were cut short once Sansa crawled out from the furs and started walking towards him across the bed on her knees. She was in no more than her silk shift, the neckline dipping lower than any of Sansa's dresses and the thin straps didn't seem to want to stay atop of her feminine shoulders. The soft fabric clung to the roundness of her hips and her breasts, where two stiffened peaks were noticeable. 

Jon tried not to look like a starved man before a feast, but he couldn't help the way his mouth watered or how he licked his lips. His eyes tried to drink her in as quickly as possible so that they could focus once again on her face.

Sansa reached out to place her palms firmly on his chest. She leant closer, urging him to do the same as she blessed him once again with one of her sweet kisses.

"Are you sure"? He asked, feeling a little light-headed once they had parted lips. Sansa nodded with a smile and began unbuckling Jon's leather jerkin.

Once down to his smallclothes, Jon joined his wife under the furs. He could feel his pulse thundering through his body as he slid close to her - the closest they had ever been. "You truly are the most beautiful woman Sansa" he whispered as he gently tucked some of her silky hair back behind her ear. Sansa stared back at him intently and bit her lower lip.

It was Jon's turn to claim a kiss then as he lowered his mouth to hers, one hand coming to rest on her silk covered waist. Sansa allowed Jon to deepen their kiss this time and even dared to explore his mouth a little with her own tongue, causing a low groan to emanate from Jon's throat and his grip on her waist to tighten ever so slightly. 

Sansa grasped at his shoulder, making Jon break their kiss to assure himself that she was not trying to push him away.

"Are you alright"? He asked through panted breath, praying the answer was yes. Sansa nodded and smiled back up at him. Jon cleared his throat.

"I...erm...I should probably ready you...if...if you like"? Sansa looked confused. Jon inwardly cursed any man who had touched her previously. "It will make it better for you...you can push me away if you don't like it...do you trust me"? Sansa nodded in response.

Jon gave her a small kiss before he began pulling at the hem of her shift. He started by stroking her soft flat abdomen in what he hoped was a calming manner before moving lower over her maiden hair, keeping his eyes trained on her face for any signs of ill ease. Sansa parted her legs slightly, which encouraged Jon to move his fingers lower. He found her bud and began rubbing in slow, pressured circles. Sansa gasped and arched her neck.

"Does that feel good"? 

Sansa answered him with a nod, her eyes shut tight. Jon knew he could bring her more pleasure with his mouth and Gods! Did he want to! But he was not sure if this Sansa - this precious, perfect Lady who was stronger than anyone gave her credit for - was ready for that kind of intimacy.... not just yet anyway.

Jon moved his fingers lower to find her hot and wet. He tried and failed at surpressing hungry whine from escaping as he pushed one and then two fingers inside her, keeping a firm pressure on her sensitive bud with the heel of his hand. Sansa's breath hitched and she arched her back off of the bed when he found a certain spot inside her silky warmth.

Jon took the opportunity to duck his mouth down to her neck and began leaving a trail of soft kisses and licks. Tasting and exploring her skin as he often had want to do.

Sansa grabbed ahold of Jon's forearm with both hands and began rocking her hips against his ministrations at her core, urging him to move faster.

"That's it" he whispered encouragingly into the sensitive spot behind her earlobe. "I just want you to feel good my love" the endearment slipped out of Jon's lips. Sansa didn't seem to mind or notice as she began panting. "You are so, so beautiful Sansa... do you know how long I've wanted you like this?.... I've wanted to touch you and kiss you....taste you and be inside you". Jon's words flowed out in between kisses to her skin. Somewhere, at the back of his mind he felt that perhaps he should be embarrassed at his confessions but right at that moment, he couldn't care less. This was all he had ever wanted and Sansa was giving it to him.

Suddenly, the room was filled with a sensual "hmmmmmahhh" sound. Jon stilled and in his shock, withdrew his hand from Sansa - causing an altogether different type of gasp. 

"Sansa!?....did...did you just make a noise"? Jon asked in a surprised voice as he moved to be hovering above her, propping himself up with both hands and investigating her face.

Sansa looked a sight below him, panting and flush. Her hair was slightly messed where she'd pushed her head back into the pillow. She looked confused and slightly annoyed as it began to dawn on Jon that she may have been close to peaking just before he stopped. She had every right to be annoyed - he began to feel practically livid with his actions himself. But there was a noise... it sounded like a noise of pleasure... perhaps he'd imagined it? Perhaps it came from him? He doubted that - it definitely sounded feminine.

"Gods Sansa...I'm sorry...I...I thought I'd heard you....erm...moan" Jon felt his face burn with embarrassment.

In Sansa's frustration, she wrapped her legs around his hips and drew him closer. Perhaps she wasn't as delicate as everyone had thought? 

They kissed hungrily, their tongues dancing together in unison. Jon swiped a thumb under Sansa's breast, which seemed to elicit a pleasured shudder from her. Encouraged, he cupped her firmly, enjoying the softness of her flesh and the feel of her hardening teat in his palm as he kneaded. 

Sansa bucked her hips up into Jon's, causing him to break away from her mouth. She chased his lips, making him smile back down to her. She bucked her hips once more, this time with more force.

"Are you sure"? Jon panted. Sansa nodded, rubbing herself against his now extremely hard manhood, his smallclothes rapidly becoming soaked from her arousal. Jon groaned, his eyes closing at the sensation of her against him and the knowledge of her wanting him so.

Quickly ridding himself of his smallclothes, Jon looked back at Sansa. He was pleased to note that there was lust and desire in her face that wasn't there before, but her nervousness had not yet abated. He grasped onto her hand where it lay by her head on the pillow, lacing his fingers with hers, silently asking the question once again with his eyes. Sansa smiled and nodded. Jon leant down to taste her lips before pushing himself inside her.

"Oh Gods Sansa"! Jon's cries drowned out her sudden intake of breath as he sheathed himself fully inside her. His eyes were screwed shut, taking a minute to compose himself as he shuddered with pleasure - she felt everything and nothing like he'd imagined.

They lay still like one being for a while, both sets of eyes searching the others, the only movement being that of their rising and falling chests pushed against one another. Jon squeezed Sansa's hand as if trying to relay a thousand words through his touch alone.

Sansa reached up with her free hand and brushed one of Jon's unruly curls from his face. She slowly graced him with a smile that Jon swore could have thawed all the snow in the North.

Moving slowly at first, Jon held her close, their faces inches from each other, sharing breath, smiles and kisses. After a while at the same pace, Sansa began encouraging Jon by squeezing him with her long legs and digging her heels into the backs of his thighs. He was only too happy to oblige as his thrusts began to jostle her up the bed slightly, their combined breathing building in tempo.

Sansa closed her eyes. This time Jon witnessed, without a doubt, the source of the noise to be Sansa as she let out a gratifying "oooh" sound. 

He was not fool enough to stop this time around. He kept going, transfixed with this new aspect to her that he seemed to have unlocked. It was only noises, no comprehensible words, but it was enough. Enough that if Sansa never spoke a single word for the rest of their days that he would hear her sweet vocalisation of pleasure for his ears only. 

Jon's hips seemed to snap into Sansa with even more vigour, chasing her for another sound. She screwed her eyes shut, squeezed on his hand where they still held onto each other as her parted, panting lips gasped her first audible word in years.

"Jon"

He wanted to stop. He wanted to marvel at what had just occurred and hold her, laugh with her and celebrate her voice, but he couldn't, not now - not with how good she felt, not with how good he was obviously making her feel. 

"Aahh" another noise escaped her no longer mute lips.

"Say my name again" he pleaded, beginning to lose his rhythm to erratic movements. He was close. She was too.

Sansa opened her eyes and somehow managed to nod through being jostled with such vigorous thrusts.

"Jon" she breathed.

"Again Sansa" he begged.

"Jon......oh oh! Jonnn"! 

*********

He begged her to say his name time and time again, even as they lay there sated - a tangled panting mess of sweat and flesh, peppering every inch of her skin with kisses when she did.

It was only once both their heartbeats and pulses had plateaued that Jon started asking her to say more than his name.

She was a little hesitant - as if the sound of the words themselves could inflict harm upon her. Jon was determined to help in any way he could to coax that beautiful voice out of her..... and he now knew a good place to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, ok, ok.... I can hear your thoughts through my phone screen...
> 
> YOU: Did....did she just finish a fic with Jon having a magical-all-healing-wang?!?!
> 
> ME: yes I did my friend, yes I did - even though I warned you that the ending was making me laugh even before I finished it I will hang my head in shame and sit in the corner while I reflect on what I have just done.
> 
> On another note - I honestly didn't start this fic with the intention of Jon and Sansa's relationship being so fucking tender and sweet - it just happened that way *shrugs*
> 
> Please review and tell me it's not a total heap of trashy-McTrash?!?? Please! 
> 
> Ps - it's still making me giggle.

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter has been outlined just needs fleshing out :)


End file.
